


I've Built a Lot of Castles

by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee



Series: True Love or Something [25]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-20
Updated: 2017-02-20
Packaged: 2018-09-25 19:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9840665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee/pseuds/DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee
Summary: “Keith, you need a kitchen table.”“Why?”“You’ve lived here a month and you’ve bought one couch, one bed, a bunch of glow in the dark stars for your bedroom ceiling and nothing else.”“Wrong, I bought a shower curtain.”“That’s not furniture."Four conversations Keith had about furniture and one he didn't.





	

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR YOUR COMMENTS AND SUPPORT AND GENERALLY BEING AWESOME
> 
> Me: Wow, this is the twenty-fifth fic in this series, that's pretty monumental for me as a writer, this is such a cool moment  
> Also Me: You know what, I should write a whole fic about furniture
> 
> And thus I bring you this thing. 
> 
> The fake camp fire Keith has in the first part is based on a real thing I had as a kid, it was part of a toy camp set and came with a tiny tent and plastic sticks with marshmallows, I swear I'm not making this up.

**I’ve Built A Lot of Castles**

**Bed 1 – Age 18**

         “Shiro.” Keith is sitting in the hallway of his freshman dorm. Shiro just dropped him off this morning and it doesn’t seem real – that he’s here, that he made it through high school, that he’s doing something as ordinary as going to college. It should feel incredible, but instead it feels like sitting in the hallway at two in the morning, clutching your cellphone and hanging on to your brother’s voice.

         “Keith?” Shiro asks on the other end of the line, “What is it? It’s two am – are you at a party? Do you need me to pick you up? Are you okay?” It really is amazing how is brother can switch from confused and slightly irritated to fretful on a dime.

         “I’m fine, I’m at my dorm; I just can’t sleep.” Keith tucks his knees up against his chest and listens to the sounds of the dorm, the thud of people running up and down the stairs, the clatter of doors opening and closing. It was louder earlier; more sounds layered one on top of the other like a casserole of noise. That was strangely easier to tune out then these random off-on bursts of sound.

         “Is your roommate giving you problems?”

         “Kind of? Not really, though.”

         “Well which is it?” Shiro sounds like he’s trying his best to be patient.

         “He kind of burst in at 1am after going to a party, turned all the lights on, fell into his bed and started snoring immediately. It was annoying; I was almost asleep. But not really that bad, I guess.”

         “So why can’t you sleep?” Shiro’s got his Patient Voice on and Keith wishes he’d decided to live at home this semester instead of on campus. He’d made the right choice – New York traffic is terrible and getting to and from campus every day would have been a nightmare but he misses Shiro’s studio apartment. He misses his couch.

         “…My bed creeps me out,” he admits quietly.

         “I’m sorry, what?”

         “My bed creeps me out! I’m used to sleeping on a couch! I’m used to couch noises and a couch shape and I don’t like my dorm bed. It squeaks weird and there’s too much space and there aren’t any arms to prop my head against.”

         Shiro sighs, “You can’t sleep…because you miss your couch? Back at the apartment?”

         “ _Yes_.”

         “That’s simultaneously heartwarming and sad.”

         “Jerk.”

         “Okay, so just pile up pillows so you’ve got a vague couch-shape! Or sleep on the floor – you like sleeping on the floor.”

         “I don’t want to weird my roommate out.”

         “Trust me, that kid is going to be so hungover tomorrow he is not going to notice or care if you’re sleeping on the floor. Although maybe don’t tell him it’s because you’re scared of your bed.”

         “I’m not scared of my bed! It’s creepy! There’s a difference.”

         “Just get your sleeping bag, get that fake campfire I bought you last Christmas, and list constellations in your head until you fall asleep.”

         Keith goes quiet for a moment, “How’d you know about that? The constellations.”

         “It’s what Mom used to do whenever I couldn’t sleep when I was little. She’d list all the constellations until I fell asleep again. I think there was even a song to go with it, but I don’t remember it.”

         Keith smiles to himself; “She used to do that for me too.”

         Shiro’s breathing shifts on the other end of the line like he’s smiling too, but it’s a little melancholy. “Okay, kiddo, I’m going to let you go. Goodnight.”

         “Goodnight Shiro.” Keith hangs up and goes to get his sleeping bag and the fake campfire Shiro gave him last Christmas. It’s a little kid’s toy – a plastic log that snaps open into a tripod type shape with orange fabric with flame patterns on it stretched between the log-sections. It was meant as a gag gift, part of some sort of inside joke Keith can’t remember now, but they rigged it up so there’s battery-operated lights attached to the pieces of plastic log and it glows dimly and reminds them both of summer nights with their mom under the stars. They used to set it up in their living room when they couldn’t sleep – Shiro with his nightmares, Keith with his insomnia. They’d sit on the floor and just watch its artificial flickering until they both dropped off.

         Keith settles into his sleeping bag on the floor of his dorm room and snaps open the fake fire and watches it until the last constellation slips from his mind and he falls gently to sleep.

…

**Table – Age 25**

         “Keith, you need a kitchen table.”

         “Why?”

         Shiro gives him a flat look from where he stands on the other side of the kitchen, eating half a box of macaroni and cheese out of Keith’s one bowl. Keith is eating his half directly out of the pot with a fork while sitting on the counter. Shiro has the only spoon. “Maybe we can get you some dishes and silverware to go with it.”

         “You didn’t answer my question.”

         “Keith, you need a kitchen table!”

         “I have a couch, we could have eaten on that, but apparently you’re hung up on eating in the kitchen for no reason.”

         “You’ve lived here a month and you’ve bought one couch, one bed, a bunch of glow in the dark stars for your bedroom ceiling _and nothing else._ ”

         Keith huffs, “Wrong, I bought a shower curtain.”

         “ _That’s not furniture._ You know, I seriously wonder about your ability to actually exist on your own.”

         “I resent that.”

         “Keith, you have one plate, one bowl, and one cup.”

         “There’s only one of me.”

         Shiro looks very, very tired. “Are guests supposed to bring their own silverware now?”

         Keith shrugs, “You’re the only person who visits.”

         Shiro sighs. He’s not going to win this battle.

…

_Several months later_

         “LANCE!” Keith yells through the dumbwaiter, “WHY ARE THERE A BUNCH OF SPORKS IN MY KITCHEN?”

         “THEY’RE NOT SPORKS.” Lance’s voice drifts from somewhere deep in his, Hunk, and Pidge’s side of the duplex.

         “THEY’RE A FUSION OF SPOON AND FORK, I REST MY CASE.”

         “THEY’RE MULTI-UTENSILS, I GOT THEM AT A CAMPING STORE.”

         “FOR GOD’S SAKE, WHY?”

         Pidge comes around the corner and gives Keith a long look, “For the love of god, just get in here and talk to your boyfriend at a normal volume like a normal person.”

         Keith frowns at her, “Has he ever given you a dozen sporks?”

         “THEY’RE NOT SPORKS,” Lance interjects from afar.

         “Yes,” Pidge surprises Keith by answering.

         “Are you messing with me?” Keith asks, suspicious.

         “No, he really gave me a bunch of sporks for my birthday one year. They’re reusable, surprisingly durable and there’s a spoon on one end and a fork on the other. What’s not to like? I keep them in the lab.”

         Keith stares at her blankly.

         Lance appears behind Pidge, “Are you bragging about my awesome spork-tacular birthday gift for you?”

         “So you do admit they’re sporks!” Keith pounces on the one part of this conversation he’s sure of.

         Lance rolls his eyes, “Just appreciate the gesture, babe. You needed more utensils. And a kitchen table.”

         Keith glances behind him, suddenly wary. He doesn’t see a table but wouldn’t put it past Lance to smuggle on in somehow.

         “Relax, I didn’t sneak in a table. But you should get one. And more dishes.”

         Keith just shrugs.

…

         He wakes up the next morning to a row of Lance’s novelty coffee mugs sitting on the kitchen counter. “What?” he asks the pile, not sure what’s going on.

         “I thought they could keep your weird travel mug collection company,” Lance says from the stove, where he’s making scrambled eggs, “Although,” he glances down at the pan, “In hindsight a plate would suit this breakfast a lot better. And we’re going to have to eat breakfast on the couch. Because you don’t have a kitchen table.”

         “We can get one this afternoon,” Keith says because his brain is on autopilot, overwhelmed at the thought of even a part of Lance’s coffee mug collection moving into his kitchen permanently. Like maybe Lance might be permanent. Like maybe it won’t just be Keith forever.

         Maybe he should buy more dishware. At least another cup, bowl, plate set.

…

**Bed 2 – Age 25**

When Keith first moved into his half of the duplex he bought a double bed because he finally had the money and the room for it and why the hell not? It can go with his glow in the dark ceiling stars as one of his strange little self-indulgent purchases. (And maybe he doesn’t always want to sleep alone, maybe he’s still hopeful sometimes.)

         The first night is weird.

 

**To: Big Brother is Watching You**

My bed is creepy

**To: Keith**

Not this again

**To: Big Brother is Watching You**

It’s too big

I’m not used to this

Help

**To: Keith**

Oh my god

You poor feral creature

**To: Big Brother is Watching You**

Seriously, this is weird.

**To: Keith**

Do you need to sleep on the floor again?

**To: Big Brother is Watching You**

No.

I’m making a pillow nest instead

**To: Keith**

Whatever helps

Can I go back to sleep now?

**To: Big Brother is Watching You**

Yes.

The bed’s still creepy, though.

…

**Bookshelf – Age 25**

         “Literally all I wanted was a bookshelf. How did this end in us getting thrown out of IKEA?” Keith asks the world at large as they sit in the parking lot.

"Yeah, I'm still not clear on how that happened," Hunk muses.

"I brought you to Ikea, you displeased the Ikea gods, and we got thrown out." Lance explains.

“Um, try again, dude, you are at least 50% responsible for this,” Pidge snarks.

"I'm pretty sure there are no Ikea gods," is Keith’s only comment.

“Ikea gods, you have betrayed us,” Lance shakes his fist at the clouds. The clouds have no response.

"Want to go get ice cream and get thrown out of Wal Mart?" Keith offers into the moody silence that ensues.

"Can you get thrown out of Wal Mart?" This is one of the many reasons Keith loves Lance; he actually looks intrigued by this terrible, terrible idea.

Keith thinks back on his and his mother’s checkered history with Wal Mart. He says “Yes” with some conviction.

“We’re going to end up in jail,” Hunk sighs.

“But it’s gonna be awesome,” Pidge grins.

…

**Bed 3 – Age 25**

         Sleeping with another person beside you is weird, Keith concludes. It’s the middle of the night and everything is soft, brushed with silver and gold as light leaks in through the cracks in the blinds, gliding everything it touches. Lance breathes next to him, lost to dreamland and Keith is trying to watch him without actually _watching_ him because watching someone sleep is creepy right? That’s creepy.

         But there’s something oddly charming about Lance asleep beside him. Keith doesn’t really get what books are talking about when they say people you love are more beautiful asleep, more peaceful. They’re not. Lance moves and sprawls and dreams send expressions flickering across his face at lightning speed and sometimes he talks but it’s always in Spanish and never makes sense, even when Keith tries to Google translate what he’s saying. But there’s something very…restful about it. About him.

         Keith’s a light sleeper, always has been. His mom’s schedule was so wacky growing up he didn’t learn that nighttime was for sleeping until it was too late to change his habits and the months he spent in foster care taught him to never sleep to soundly or people take your stuff and Shiro’s nightmares were impossible to ignore in their cramped studio when he was in high school.

         So sometimes Lance’s restlessness will shake Keith out of slumber but that’s okay. He just lies here and traces the constellations on his ceiling with his eyes, counting his breaths in time with the man beside him until he finally…begins…to rest…

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title from the song 'Enough to Go By' by Vienna Teng


End file.
